Line of Duty
by DifoYksveyotsgod
Summary: An old friend pays the Parr family a visit, but brings along information of a new enemy as well. Rated PG-13 for violence and language. Chapter 3 is up!
1. From Russia with Love

Line of Duty

By Difoyksveyotsgod

Legal Stuff: I don't own the rights to the Incredibles, but Boris Ivanovich Kaslowski is my own creation, I don't take credit for the hard work of the people at Pixar and in fact my hat is off to them. I hope that if any of them read this they enjoy it. I hope you all enjoy it as well.

Rating info: Right now, this story is rated fairly low, because the first couple of chapters aren't going to be that terrible. Once I get deeper into the plot the rating will go up, so be forewarned about future use of violence, language, and possibly some innuendo. Right now it's fairly tame though, so enjoy! And feel free to submit reviews, I'm always looking for constructive criticism.

Chapter 1: From Russia with Love

"Helen, are the kids ready?" Bob Parr's voice echoed through the small home, coming from their bedroom.

"Yes dear, and dinner is on the table, and Jack-Jack has been fed." Helen reached across the room to smooth Dash's hair, and went back to laying out silverware. Her husband emerged from the bedroom dressed in one of his nicest suits and pecked her on the cheek. She turned towards him and smiled. "How do I look?"

Bob took a step back, looked his wife up and down, and smiled back. "Perfect."

They embraced for a second and then stood apart at a loud knock at the door. Bob ran over and turned the handle, and looked out at the massive man that stood there. He was dressed heavily in fur, with a large ushanka covering most of his head. A thick beard and mustache covered his face up to his eyes, and he stared down at Bob with a piercing glare.

He suddenly burst into a grin and stepped forward, wrapping Bob in a massive hug. "Comerade! So good it is to be seeing you again! After all this time too!" He took a step back, still grinning, hands on Bob's shoulders. "And you have not let yourself go! This is a most excellent thing indeed!"

Bob clapped the man on the shoulders and squeezed experimentally. He felt solid cords of muscle underneath and grinned right back. "You either Boris. How have you been?"

Boris shrugged slightly, letting out a long sigh. "I am staying busy, but is not like the old days. I have been too long away from America. Things have been difficult in my home country, and are looking to stay that way. But such is life."

"Indeed. Come inside, dinner is ready and I want you to meet my family."

Boris had to duck to get through the doorway, and his shoulders were nearly the width of the hall. He smiled warmly as Helen walked up and wrapped her arms around his waist, gently placing an arm around her in return.

"It's good to see you again Boris." She smiled up at him after they separated, gesturing towards Violet and Dash. "Kids, this is a friend of your father's and mine, Boris Ivanovich Kaslowski. These are our children, Violet and Dash. Say hello to Boris kids."

"Hello..." Violet smiled slightly and elbowed Dash, who was staring up at the man in awe.

"You're...you're..." Dash's voice was filled with awe, the kind children reserve for their favorite heroes and stars.

"PÑÑÑÐºÐ¸Ð¹ Ð¼ÐµÐ´Ð²ÐµÐ´Ñ...the Russian bear?"

"Yeah! You're like the greatest wrestler ever, andthestrongestmanin Russiaandthegreatestboxerand..." Dash's speech picked up to a level of speed that was unintelligible.

"Dash, you're talking too fast again. Sorry Boris, he does that sometimes." Helen smiled apologetically at him, and he simply shrugged deeply.

"It does not bother me, I am flattered that I would be thought so highly of. I was always of opinion that Alexander Karelin was better than I, but is just opinion. Before I am forgetting, I have a gift for you!" Boris rummaged through his coat, removing a small glass bottle from a pocket. He presented it to Helen, grinning. "Part of Mikhail Gorbachev's private stocks, recently purchased for a very reasonable sum in Moscow and transported by way of one Russian lumberjack to your home."

"Thank you Boris...", Helen passed the bottle back to Bob, who set it in one of the high cabinets. "Are you hungry? Dinner is ready."

"Always. Thank you."

It was a light dinner, with Boris and Bob swapping jokes and stories from the old days, and Helen occasionally chiming in. The Russian ate like his name sake, consuming twice as much food as everyone else combined, with Bob remarking on the side to Helen that he told her it was a good idea to make so much extra.

Boris told how he had been quietly deported during the barrage of lawsuits and the beginning of the relocation act, after he refused a government offer to take up permanent citizenship in the States as long as he agreed to lay low. He had declined on personal reasons, saying that things in his country were deteriorating so rapidly that he felt the need to return anyway. Promises were given of his guaranteed option to return after things settled down, and indeed he was one of the few superheroes who disappeared with their reputation intact.

He had returned home to find his country in a slump of economic despair, with the collapse of the USSR bringing about poverty to his small village. He had gone to work as a lumberjack, earning a respectful living that kept him in shape. His people were more accepting of powers, especially ones that aided work, so he was free to use his strength unrestrained. After a time he had gotten into strength contests from around his country, and by purposefully restraining his powers, became a hero once more.

After a brief controversy about his inclusion in the 2003 World's Strongest Man competition, and his honest third place finish after Mariusz Pudzianowski of Poland and Zydrunas Savickas of Lithuania, he was allowed to go into wrestling and boxing on the international circuit.

He joked that he wasn't sure who would have found the other first, him or Bob. He had seen the news of Syndrome's defeat at about the time he had become a known name in America, and had written to Mr. Incredible in the hope of reestablishing contact. Through some stroke of luck his letter had been sorted by one of the older clerks in the government office for managing superhero mail who had recognized his name and sent the letter, after much censorship and redirection, to Bob Parr.

"And so I have found you and we are here together. A toast!" Boris drained his glass of milk in a single swallow and set it down, sighing happily. "Helen, I am so full I could not be eating more if my life depended on it. Most excellent, thank you." He patted his stomach, burped politely, and smiled.

"So Boris...did you ever get a family?"

The Russian grinned, lacing his hands over his chest. "Yes, I married a beautiful woman, we settled down, and I have a son about your daughter's age, Gregor. Already he is as strong as an ox, and barely even 14! I have a job for him with the lumber company while I am gone. He enjoys the work, it is a break from his schooling, and lets him show off, but too much I think."

Bob chuckled, glanced at Dash, and sighed. "I know the feeling. It's a bad influence from the father or something like that."

Boris laughed and clapped his hands. "Something like that, or so my Natasha is always telling me. Ahh...soon it will be our children doing the work, and us sitting around retired da?" Boris heaved out a long sigh and leaned forward. "Oh well. Such is life and time, and no power is great enough to be stopping it."

The group rose from the table, and Dash, Violet and Helen began clearing the dishes. Bob went to the cabinet, retrieved the bottle and two small glasses, one with ice, one without. He poured the drinks, handed the one without ice to Boris, and both of them headed out to the back porch. They settled into the lawn chairs and sipped at the vodka, staring out into space, communing in the silent way of men. Finally Bob sighed, took a sip from his glass, and looked over at his friend.

"Well Boris...we both know this isn't just a simple social call."

The other man shook his head. "Sadly it is not, as much as I am wishing otherwise. I take it you understood from my letter what we are up against?"

"As much as the censors would let me. I'm amazed it got through at all."

"I made a few calls for favors."

"Thought so. What are we up against?"

"You remember the Cossack?"

"Big SOB, used fire like none other and liked to burn down everything he couldn't steal? Thought your guys took him out in that '02 raid."

"So did we."

"Ah...not good. Well, we've got Lucius, now that his wife's over him missing their anniversary dinner to fight Syndrome. Man he was in the heat for a while. Made up to her for about a month."

"So he DID get married...I wondered about that for a long time. We are going to be needing his help for this Bob."

"You think the two of us can't handle that guy? Last I checked, you brought him in alone and helped keep him in lockdown during the uprising of '88."

"...There is...how to say...complications. This time I do not think he is working alone. If it were that simple I am thinking he would not have survived 2 years ago, or even managed to escape."

"The Underminer maybe? We haven't quite nailed down all of his operation, but we're pretty sure we can take him out."

Boris shook his head, sighing softly. "I have not been entirely honest with you comrade...you know how my government is with its secrets. I have been working for them ever since I was deported. What Spetsnaz could not handle alone, and it was more often than you may be thinking, I was called in. It was not incompetence...it was...difficulty. The challenges in my country are greater, criminals are holding more sway and power, and it is easier for a villain such as the Cossack to wind up in an organization. All the publicity, the television and contests were all covers to make it seem like I was too busy to be a hero."

Bob shook his head, smiling slightly. "You and your honesty...Boris, if you think I honestly believed you could stop being a hero any more than me, I'll eat my own socks. I figured that as soon as you got home that someone would contact you. Nobody over here ever heard any details of course, or even anything generally related, but I always figured you'd find some way to do your job."

Boris laughed, raising his glass in acknowledgement of his friend's assessment. "Ah...I should have expected. You were always too smart Bob, my government caused more trouble than yours for contacting you. But is in the past, and we are now men of the present. I am concerned because the Cossack simply vanished from the site of the raid. We found no body, no remains of any kind. There was not even a sign of teleportation, it as if something simply popped out of thin air, grabbed him, and went back. We are baffled."

Bob shifted, the sound of traceless teleportation not something he wanted to deal with. "So you guys couldn't even put out a source trace? That's really bad. He could have wound up anywhere."

"Yes, but he has resurfaced. We tracked him to this area, and of course had to find some way to deploy me without arousing too much suspicion. What better way than a visit between comrades who have not seen each other in years?"

"True...is there anything we can do about this right now?"

"Nyet. I am afraid we must wait until he is spotted in person to be making a move."Boris yawned, drained the last of the vodka from his glass, and sighed deeply. "How I wish this could be just a simple visit between us! I would have loved to bring my family and introduce you...but..."

"Such is life." Bob finished the sentence. "I know old friend, I know. We've got the guest bed made up for you."

"Thank you Bob...thank you. In the morning I hope there will be better news."


	2. The news just gets better

Line of Duty  
By Difoyksveyotsgod  
See legal notice chapter 1

Author's Note: Thank you for the reviews, it's incredibly satisfying to know that your work isn't appreciated by not just others, but other authors. Thank you for the notes about character development as well, that was never my strong suit when it comes to fanfiction involving characters that I didn't create. I tried to work with it more in this chapter. This one is pretty friendly as well.

Chapter 2: The news just gets better...

Boris opened his eyes slowly, blinking a few times to clear his vision. The house was still quiet, not quite early enough for Helen to be up and preparing breakfast. Rising from the bed and pulling on a pair of running shorts and a tank top, he glanced at the window. Dawn hadn't properly started, and the outside world was still mostly asleep and dark. Quietly opening the door to the room and tiptoeing to the patio, he scribbled a small note, set it on a table, and stepped outside. He tugged on his shoes, stretched his legs briefly, and walked around to the front of the house.

Once his feet touched the sidewalk he started to jog, a fast pace drilled into him through countless hours of training. He went for about 2 blocks and turned a corner, absently counting the number of steps he'd taken. He chuckled as he caught himself doing this, again, more habit from the old days when it might aid in retracing a route. Everything around him caught his attention, a small cat darting behind a fence, a toy left out on a lawn, a man casually smoking under a tree in a park...Boris paused, stopping to look at the man.

"ÐÑ Ð¸Ð¼ÐµÐµÑÐµ ÑÐ¸Ð³ÐÑÐµÑÑ?"

The man looked up at Boris and nodded slightly, reaching into his coat and removing a pack of Marlboro red 100s. "ÐÐ, Ð²Ð·ÑÑÐ¸Ðµ Ð¾Ð´Ð½Ð¾. ÐÐ¾ Ð²Ñ Ð½Ðµ ÐºÑÑÐ¸ÑÐµ."

"Ð¯ Ð´ÐµÐ»ÐÑ Ð½Ð ÑÐ»ÑÑÐÐµ."

Both men nodded, glanced around, and stepped closer together. Boris looked at the pack of cigarettes and groaned. "100s red? It is bad then?"

The other man nodded, tossing his current smoke to the ground, crushing it underfoot, and drawing another. He lit it, took a drag, and looked at Boris. "ÐÑ Ð¸Ð¼ÐµÐµÐ¼ Ð¸Ñ Ð¿Ð¾Ð¼Ð¾ÑÑ?"

"Mr. Incredible yes. I have not talked to Frozone or Elastigirl about it yet. And the team is ready?"

"ÐÐ. ÐÐ½Ð¸ Ð¶Ð´ÑÑ Ð²ÐÑ Ð·ÐÐºÐÐ·."

"Good. And my wife and son? They are safe?"

The man took a long drag of the cigarette, threw it down, and drew another from the pack. He shifted uncomfortably, blew out the smoke and looked away from Boris. "ÐÐ½Ð¸ Ð·Ð´ÐµÑÑ."

"What?"

"ÐÐ½Ð¸ Ð·Ð´ÐµÑÑ. ÐÑÑÐ³ÐÑ Ð¿Ð¾Ð¿ÑÑÐºÐ Ð±ÑÐ»Ð ÑÐ´ÐµÐ»ÐÐ½Ð."

"Unhurt?"

"ÐÐ."

"Thank god. You will ensure they stay safe?" It wasn't so much a question as a threat.

"ÐÐ."

"Good. Well...perhaps this can be for the best. Does anybody know they are here?"

"ÐÐµÑ. ÐÑ ÑÐÐ±Ð¾ÑÐÐ»Ð¸ Ð² ÑÐµÐºÑÐµÑÐµ."

"Good. I trust you have the information?"

The man nodded, pulled another pack of cigarettes from his coat, and passed them to Boris. He tucked them in the band of the shorts and nodded. Both men turned and began walking away in opposite directions. Boris resumed his jogging, pondering what to do with the current developments in the situation. There had to be a way to make certain he could keep the presence of his family a secret. He wasn't afraid to introduce them to his friends, but he was worried about the information traveling farther than it should. Sighing slightly, he resumed his jog.

Bob groaned slightly, looked at the digital clock next to the bed, waited for the numbers to come into focus, and sighed. Was it really morning? He sat up and yawned, swinging his legs out of bed and staggering into the bathroom. A cold splash of water from the sink woke him up enough to start the shower, and the act of cleaning himself provided the momentum to get dressed. He headed into the kitchen, found the coffee pot and his favorite mug, and poured himself a cup. He looked over at the table and blinked a few times. When did...oh yes, last night. It had been a long time since he'd had vodka as the Russians consider it, topping somewhere around 90 alcohol.

"Morning Helen...Boris..." Bob walked over and gave his wife a kiss on the cheek and sat down next to her. It took another long moment for his brain to process the way she sat, tensed up and looking at him expectantly. "Something wrong dear?"

"You could have told me exactly what was going on for starters." Helen frowned slightly at Boris, and then sighed.

"About...oh yeah...that...", Bob shifted uncomfortably in his chair, looking at his friend, who seemed to have established a fixed point in his coffee as the center of his attention. "I was going to tell you honey, but..."

"But nothing Bob. You should have told me this might have come up when you got the letter. I wouldn't have said no, but...", Helen bit her lip, wrapping her hands around her coffee cup. "We still haven't dealt with the Underminer yet, and I don't want the children getting involved again. Not if Boris is asking for your...for our help in the matter, and trying to get Lucius on board as well."

"Dear, I'm certain Boris would want the children to stay out of this as well. Right Boris?" Bob looked up at his friend.

"Da...", Boris looked to the side and sighed. "...There has been...complication." His English had slipped from it's normally good state to one heavily laced with his accent. "Information was brought that makes...changing...of situation at hand."

"Boris..." Bob's attitude suddenly went dead serious, knowing that when the Russian talked like that, he was trying to keep as much information to himself as possible. "What happened?"

"We have been discovering things about the enemy. They are persons we are not wishing to have been facing. Again." He looked to the other side, doing his best not to meet Bob's gaze. "It is worse than thinking originally. There are three."

"Three? In addition to the Cossack, or counting him."

"Addition." Boris kept staring at the floor, knowing that he would have to break the news sooner or later. Bob groaned softly.

"What else Boris. Besides the villains what else?" Helen reached over and turned his face to look at hers. "What about the children?"

Boris stared back for a long second and stood, throwing his arms in the air. "We have had attempt on my family's life. They are here, in America, in hiding. We are thinking it may be best interest for your children if they joined my family. Was not my idea, urging of government. Out of town. Like Nebraska. In bunker."

"You want us to send our children into hiding, in a bunker, in Nebraska." Bob felt his temper start to rise at the thought of his children leaving his sight for longer than a day, something which still terrified him, to go hide in a secret facility in the center of the country.

"Was not my idea! My son and wife are currently in city, hiding. Can all be moved together to bunker. Have many, many guards. Spetznaz, ex-KGB. Built to withstand direct nuclear blast. Full cooperation with your government it is."

Helen thought about her children being locked away in a bomb shelter, guarded by dozens of special forces, hours away from his reach by plane, days away knowing how the government worked, and their involvement risked more security holes than she cared to imagine. The image rose to her mind of a group of villains assaulting the bunker, defeating the guards, and taking her children away from her, and she would be helpless to stop them. She glanced at Bob, he was obviously feeling the same way.

"Boris...", Helen's voice quivered with her barely controlled temper. "We have to decline...we would feel better knowing our children are where we can get to them if we need to." And, she thought, she'd almost lost them once. To almost lose them twice would break any restraint she currently showed for locking them away until they were grown and protecting them from any threat.

"Was afraid you would say that...but understanding." Boris sighed softly and sat down, grinding his hands into his eyes. "At least allow them to join my wife and son in city, Gregor is trained to defend himself and others, and is becoming fine man. Will be minutes away at most, and have helicopters to evacuate at moment's notice."

"Boris...we aren't interested." Bob shook his head slowly, draining the last of his coffee. "You could tell us you would launch them into space in an invulnerable ship that would never run the risk of failure, have enough firepower to vaporize an icecap, with teleporters that would only respond to us, send all others who tried to us them into the heart of the sun, and we still wouldn't be interested. I came too close, we came too close last time. It's bad enough having them with us, where we can see and physically protect them, let alone out of our reach."

"What if ship could be destroying moon and teleporting others straight to black hole?" Boris asked, arching his eyebrows.

"No-wait...you're joking right?" Helen narrowed her eyes at him.

"Yes." Boris sighed heavily and spread his hands apart. "I am sorry. I wish I could think of another plan." His voice had lost its thick accent and returned to more proper English, a sign he had given up. "But a danger exists. The only reason for such an operation to even be planned for is the existence of a real threat. You know how my government is liking to work with the rest of the world, asking yours for help is more painful than having teeth pulled without medication to them. Is there anyway you would consider the possibility of your children, if only to help take care of them during the operations?"

Bob and Helen sighed, looked at each other and felt a wave of helplessness sweep over them. If their friend, one of the strongest and most fearless heroes on the planet was that afraid for the safety of their children, they knew this was something they would eventually have to come to agreement on.

"Maybe. Let us think it over first. It's nothing personal Boris, you know that...", Helen reached across the table to set her hand on his arm. "It's just after what happened we are terrified at the slightest thing that might attract more attention to our children than necessary."

"All right. Now that we've got that out of the way, how about you update me on who we're going up against?" Bob leaned forward, picking up a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. "Good morning Dash...", he glanced at Helen, who nodded slightly. She saw it too, so chances were he'd just come into the room.

"Morning Dad, Mom, Boris. What are you guys talking about? Up against what?" Dash rummaged through the fridge, pulling out a carton of milk. "Are you guys going after more bad guys?"

"No honey, your father and Boris were planning a competition. Right?" Helen elbowed Bob and kicked Boris under the table.

"Yes! That's right. We were just talking about the way to set up the rules for it, right Boris?"

"Da. Planning to have massive contest between super heroes, to find out who is the world's strongest. Your father and me were trying to think of people to invite to compete."

"Cool!" Dash poured cereal into a bowl, added milk, and arrived at the table a second later, spoon in hand. "Are you gonna compete Dad?"

"Well...uh...", Bob winced slightly as he received another elbow from Helen. "Of course. Nobody is stronger than me after all."

"I dunno, Boris looks pretty strong. Are you stronger than my dad?" Dash said this between mouthfuls of cereal, barely pausing between bites to fill his mouth again.

Boris shook his head quickly at Helen, rubbing his left shin with the back of his other leg. "Of course I am. Nobody is stronger than the Russian Bear!" He flexed his arms and grinned at Bob. "Not even Mr. Incredible!"

"That sounds like a challenge to me Bob..." Helen grinned at her husband mischievously, glad to have diverted both Dash's attention and the subject, even if it was only temporarily. "I think you two should go out back and find out."

"Yeah! That would be awesome! What are you gonna do? Lift things over your head, or wrestle, or..."

"I think something a little less dramatic will work. Arm wrestling should do the trick. What do you think Boris?" Bob smiled, glad to have the chance to take another shot at a contest he had failed long ago.

"Agreed. Winner gets..." Boris thought for a second, trying to figure out what he could offer to Bob. "Bragging rights for life and..."

"The first batch of bacon and eggs." Helen just hoped she had enough in case the Russian won. In any event it would be fun to watch her husband try again at this.

"Wow! This is so cool!" Dash finished his cereal, had the bowl rinsed out and in the sink, and was back in his chair in the space of a second. "I can't even figure out who to root for!"

"Alright then, let's get this started. Hope your not too hungry Boris, you might be waiting a while."

"Only hungry enough to polish off everything cooked. Try to not be watching me eat too hard, it makes me feel uncomfortable."

Exchanging the ritual posturing that must accompany every struggle between men, Bob and Boris made their way outside, with Dash running back and forth, trying to decide who to cheer on. Helen shook her head in amusement as they took seats opposite each other and pulled over the stone patio table. They locked hands, spit on the ground as tradition demanded, and began to push against each other.

"Boris you slacker...", Bob grinned wickedly as his friend struggled simply trying to shift his hand the slightest bit. "And here I thought you were staying in shape." He pushed forward and the Russian gasped, the veins on his neck and arm bulging out. He strained to maintain his hand from above the surface of the table, simply trying to push it back upright.

"Da...am thinking...same thing...about you!" With a sudden heave his muscles rippled under his flesh and the skin took on a hard, shiny appearance. He heaved Bob's hand back over in the opposite direction, almost slamming it into the table before the other man recovered from his surprise to react. The hands wavered for a second and struggled back up the center, wavering slightly as each man sought to acquire an advantage.

"I knew you were holding back!"

"Always for you comrade! Always holding back for you!"

"Why bother? Go at it with all you got! You never did before!"

"Da! And never needed to!"

"You couldn't! You were afraid!"

"Bob! Boris! Take it easy!" Helen eyed the table with concern, noting the way it seemed to be taking the extraordinary stress placed on it.

"Afraid of nothing! You were always scared one!"

"Like the time I had to save you from those mentalists?"

"Like time I held up building so you could crawl out?"

"Guys!" Helen had seen the two fight before, and it wasn't pretty. Usually things wound up broken beyond repair, and it looked like irregardless of the argument the table would suffer that fate.

"Dirty pinko!"

"American Dog!"

"Commie!"

"Capitalist!"

Both men continued to shout at each other, throwing everything they had into their contest of strength. As the insults started sliding towards profanity, Helen stepped in.

"CHILDREN!" She slapped her hand down on the table, startling both men and herself when it cracked in half from the impact. They stared at it for a moment, and then Bob and Boris leapt out of their chairs and embraced fiercely, laughing as hard as they could.

"Comerade, we have broken the table for the wrestling!" Boris reached up to wipe a tear from his eye.

"It was actually Helen who struck the fatal blow. Helen you murdered the table!" Bob shook with laughter, leaning on his friend.

The sound of a crying baby inside brought them to their senses, and Helen shot an exasperated glance at her husband and friend, then hurried back inside muttering about men and their stupid habits. She walked into Jack-Jack's room and picked him up, patting him on the back and making soft noises.

"Shh honey...shh...it's just daddy and his friend being stupid, that's all. Shhh..." She rocked the baby until he quieted down, and stepped into the hall. She looked over to see Violet emerging from the bathroom brushing her hair back.

"What was that all about mom?" Violet got out through a yawn. "They could have woken half the neighborhood..."

"They probably did. Your father and Boris had another one of their little contests. As usual, neither won, they just struggled until they broke something." She rolled her eyes about the stupidity of the male species in general and her daughter giggled.

"Yeah, dad does that when he gets to competing." Violet walked past her mother into her room, closing the door behind her. "Could you call me when breakfast is ready?"

"Sure thing honey." Helen resolved that the men would eat last, she had hungry children to feed, and was a little upset at the way they had started to fight like that. And the broken table. She couldn't forget that. With another sigh of exasperation she headed into the kitchen and started to make breakfast.

Author's Note: I promise I'll get to Violet and Dash more next time! It's 1:30 am and I have to be at work in 6 hours, and I work in spurts. This, and the first chapter, were done in about 5 hours each, counting smoking and bio breaks, dinner, and spell checking/final editing. And I promise you'll see the enemy next time, and a bit more excitement.


	3. Recon

Author's Note: Started this before the break from school, and the week long hunting trip that ensued. Went after elk near Gunnison and birds near Olathe with a buddy and a couple uncles. Didn't get an elk yet, but I got a few quail, which added nicely to thanksgiving dinner. Sorry for not finishing before I took off, but I hit a brick wall about 6 pages in and just kind of coasted. I will do more on the kids in this one, and a little bit of info on the villains. As for the Cyrillic, sorry about that, I forgot how it looks if you don't know how to read it. I can't read Russian, just Cyrillic, kind of. Had to use a translator to get what I wanted. It makes about as much sense to me as it does to any of you who can cipher the characters but not the words. So as little of that as possible, probably just staying with "да" (Da) and "нет"(nyet), yes and no respectively. I'll be using those to symbolize when a character switches to Russian. "Da" and "Nyet" written in English will still signify English being spoken though.

Last thing: I need to give out some more credit. To Talyn, author of "Cooldown", and "A Night out", I would like to give credit for both the name of the super prison (I was trying to think of one, but your idea of Roswell…well…brick to the head obvious), and the little discussion Helen and Bob had in "Cooldown" has influenced the way I'm writing for them. So thanks for some great stories, and some great ideas!

Chapter 3: Recon

Bob and Boris sat at the table, staring dejectedly at the plates of bacon and eggs in front of Dash and Violet. Bob opened his mouth to speak, caught one glance from Helen, and closed it again. He looked at his friend, who simply shrugged deeply. They both shook their heads and went back to waiting.

"So you and Boris broke the table dad?" Violet looked over her breakfast at them.

"Well, Violet, hon…we were…", Bob heard Helen snort in the kitchen. "Yes. We broke the table."

"It was kind of cool Violet…dad and Boris were arm wrestling and they started yelling at each other, and sweating, and the table started to crack, and mom slammed her hand down on it and it broke in half!" Dash managed to get this out between shoveling eggs into his mouth. He paused, fork halfway to his plate, and looked at Boris. "What were you saying for a little while there? I couldn't understand it."

"And you never will honey, not if I have anything to say about it. And don't you try to repeat it, even if you don't understand it, am I clear young man?" Helen practically slammed the plates down in front of her husband and the Russian. She slid into her own chair and started to eat slowly, glaring at them. "I thought you two had grown up a bit in the past 20 years. I guess I was wrong. And you", she pointed her fork at Boris, "If you get to using that language around my house again, grown man or not, I'm washing out your mouth with soap."

Boris shifted uncomfortably, glanced at Bob, who seemed to have discovered something very interesting in the yolk of his eggs, and then looked back to Helen. He nodded meekly, muttered a soft "yes ma'am", and resumed eating. Helen felt her mood softening at the way the two were acting, like a couple of little boys scolded by their mother. The image of her standing there, counting as Boris sat in the corner with a bar of soap in his mouth was just too much, and she chuckled.

"I swear…you two will never grow up will you?" She smiled wryly at the men. "It's like having five children instead of three. One thing's for certain, you still haven't proven who's strongest, and with the way you two go at it, you never will."

"What do you mean mom? I thought dad and Boris did this before." Dash drained the last of his milk and sat looking at her curiously.

"Yes, they tried, about 20 years ago. They ended up getting into a fight like this one, and breaking the table without deciding a winner. I wasn't there to step in last time, I recall that they got into a full blown brawl that destroyed most of the bar they were in. Fortunately it was one of those seedier places, and as soon as one punch was thrown everyone was in on it. They stopped beating on each other long enough to prevent a riot, and by the time the police showed up, they were arm in arm like brothers again." Helen smiled slightly at remembering the recounts of it from both sides, both claiming to have had the upper hand before things degenerated. "Of course, the stakes were a bit higher than breakfast that time."

"What do you mean mom?" Now it was Violet who looked curious. She had, like Dash, heard very little about her parent's past, especially involving anyone else.

"Oh, they were deciding who would get to ask me out. I was going out with Boris then, although we had agreed to split up. I think it was some sort of elaborate joke he hoped to play on your father."

"You never told me that." Bob looked at his friend with a hurt expression. "Why the whole fight if you two were already done?"

"Was joke! If I had won, would have said good news comrade, can still take Helen out, as we are now through. But I am still strongest. Sorry…just seemed like funny plan…" Boris shrugged again, spreading his hands. "No harm meant."

Bob glared at him for a long moment and then grinned. "Had you going didn't I? I knew it for years, I was just playing with you. No harm meant, of course."

Boris laughed, slapping his thigh with one hand. "Da! Play joke on Russian, very funny!"

"Wait…mom…you and Boris…" Violet looked back and forth between her mother and the large man.

"Yes dear, we dated. For about a year in fact, I met your father through him." Helen shook her head. "It wouldn't have worked out anyway. Boris was a bit wilder in those days, and had his share of drunken brawls that wound up in the police blotters. He was never proved as an instigator, and probably stepped in to stop most of them, but I suspected one or two were his doing. Drunk Russians and bikers didn't mix then, and I'm fairly sure they don't mix now."

"You mean that you met dad after you dated Boris?" It was hard whether Violet sounded more shocked at the thought of her mother dating other men, or at the thought of her mother dating this man in particular.

"Yes... I was being stupid in those days, got too drunk one night, forgot to focus before wading in. I wound up in hospital for a week while they stitched me back together. I swore off excessive drinking at that point, but I am thinking is what scared your mother off. She needed someone more stable, so I introduced your father to her. The rest is history."

Violet opened her mouth to make another inquiry, but Boris was saved further explanation by the phone ringing. Helen reached over the counter and picked it up off the hook, bringing it to her ear.

"Hello? Oh…yes…hold on…" She handed the phone to Boris. "It's your wife." She excused the children from the table, and they headed into their rooms to begin getting dressed.

"Hello? Hello my sweet how…what… нет, нет…you did what? Where? And Fyodor was ok with this? He did WHAT?!" Boris rose out of his seat hastily, and began to pace back and forth behind his chair, gesturing with his hands as he talked. "What do you mean you enrolled him? The security risks…yes he is my son too…no I do…but…that's different! It's safer back home! Against these people yes! Wh-no don't do that…no…that's the last thing we need! Signed him up for what? You're joking! This is serious Natasha you cannot be risking…yes I know…but…fine! Fine! Have it your way! But you will not be telling me how dangerous it is for him when we get back home! Yes…yes I love you too. I am just…worried, about the both of you. Please Natasha, be careful, and listen to Fyodor. Yes my sweet. Yes I will be home shortly. Tseluyu."

Boris clicked the off button on the phone and sighed, letting it dangle from his fingertips as if it weighed a ton. He wearily handed the phone back to Helen and sat down, resuming his breakfast. He took a few bites, sipped from his glass, and looked up at the family.

"What?"

"Boris…is something wrong?" Bob asked gently.

"You coul…oh yes. You don't speak Russian do you." He smiled wryly. "Apparently only us foreigners need to learn your language. Well, Natasha has gone and enrolled our son in school here. He will be starting this morning. And, of all things, his bodyguard is being given job as janitor at school. Political connections have made convincing principal and staff of best interest for all. If times were not so serious, it would be funny. Also, Natasha has allowed Gregor to sign up for hockey tryouts."

"That…that's not too bad…right?" Bob asked this with a bit of worry in his voice. "I mean…he is like you in that way right?"

"Yes…but…is not having as good control as I am. I worked entire life to get where I was 20 years ago, he is only 14 and sometimes lets emotion get the better of him. I only worry that during heat of game he might become upset and hurt someone, really hurt them."

Helen, who had been quiet through all of this, glanced at the clock again and did a double take. Was it really 7:30 already? "Kids! Finish getting dressed, teeth brushed, on the double, Violet your bus will be here in half an hour, Dash get a bath and your pack together, and Bob you need to leave for work in 15 minutes!"

The storm of chaos that is getting two children to separate schools at separate times consumed the family, with Helen the driving force at it's helm. She was everywhere she needed to be, partly in presence, partly literally, helping her husband fix his tie, her son find his backpack, and checking over lunches at the same time. Boris stood off to the side, his mouth halfway open, watching the immense amount of energy expended by the woman before him. About 7:45 she noticed him as she was kissing Bob goodbye, handed him Jack-Jack to change, and resumed the pace.

**End Section**

Violet sighed, glancing towards the clock on the classroom wall. It was an hour from lunch, and Tony had promised to meet up with her. An hour seemed like too much time entirely. She glanced up in time to see a boy quietly closing the door behind himself. He was lean and suntanned, with close cut light brown hair. He was tall, Violet guessed somewhere between 5' to 5' 3". He looked around, caught her glance with his green eyes, and smiled slightly. The smile struck her as familiar, but she couldn't quite place it. Besides, what did she care. She had Tony to meet in an hour. The boy crossed over to the desk, spoke quietly to the teacher, who nodded and stood up.

"Good morning class, today I would like to introduce a foreign exchange student. His name is Gregor Ninelevich Kuznetsov from Russia, and he will be staying with us for the rest of the year. Why don't you tell us a little bit about yourself."

"Well…I am from Bogorodskoye in the Khabarovsk region of Siberia, I want to play hockey here in America, and I am hoping the winters here are nicer than at home. I like American music, although the food is not as good as back home." He looked at the teacher expectantly, got the nod, and went to his desk.

"I trust you'll do your best to make him feel welcome. Today we're going to cover ancient Greece…", the teacher droned on.

Violet felt her attention waning. This didn't normally happen, she usually was a very good student. But something about the transfer student kept tugging at her mind. What was his name again? Gregor? Wasn't Boris's son named that? Of course, the last two names were completely different, and Boris had said his family was still in Russia, but the smile seemed to only add weight to the case. It resembled the large man's smile, but the facial features were sharper, narrower on the boy. And his eyes weren't even close in color.

But then again, parentage played a part in it. Violet understood enough about genetics to know that even though her parents had different hair than her, it was passed down from one of their parents or further back along the family tree. So it was entirely possible for this boy to be Boris's son. He did look like he'd spent a lot of time doing heavy physical labor…didn't Boris say his son was working as a lumberjack when he had left for the States? In any event, Violet wasn't willing to rule out that possibility. Her internal voice satisfied, she focused back on the teacher, who was describing the effect of Socrates on Greek thinking.

The hour passed quickly enough, Violet knew she was lucky to have a teacher capable of presenting this kind of information in an interesting way, asking for analysis and response from his class as he went along. It kept things from getting boring, a useful situation in any history class. When the final bell came, the teacher looked up, glanced at his desk, and dismissed the class with a reminder about the test in two weeks.

Violet told her friends to go on ahead, that she needed to ask a few questions about the notes. She hung back by the door to the room and just as she thought, the exchange student emerged, looked at her, glanced around, and smiled slightly.

"Hello Violet…I know who your father is."

"Nice to know. I met yours already Gregor." Her suspicions confirmed, Violet began to walk down the hall, letting Gregor fall into step with her. "But we can't talk about that at school. I'm going to lunch to meet my boyfriend", she made sure to put careful emphasis on that, "but you're welcome to come too."

"Thank you. That is very kind. I get the impression that I will not be fitting in well." Gregor said these words as they passed a group of girls that had been giggling a moment before but went silent as they walked past. They resumed once they were at the end of the hall, too far to overhear anything but the laughing.

"Doesn't look like it. Probably the name…Ninelevich Kuznetsov? And coming from what sounds like the middle of nowhere in Siberia doesn't help." Violet said this kindly, to let him know she wasn't planning on making fun of him.

"It happens. Is life." Gregor shrugged, then smiled wryly. "How many of them will ever get to track Siberian tiger from helicopter on field trip?"

"You did that?" Violet asked in astonishment.

"Yes, and rest of class too. Not hard, only ten of us, and big helicopter, Hind used for troop transport. The tiger climbed a tree and tried to swipe as we went past." Gregor seemed amused at the thought of a tiger bringing down a modified attack helicopter. "If tiger was smart, would climb to tall tree, sit on top to bend over. Jump off when tail rotor gets near, bring down helicopter almost for sure." He made motions with his hands to accompany his words and looked perplexed when Violet giggled.

"I'm sorry…just…I've never seen anyone use their hands like that when they talked. It's…", she blushed, trying to find a way not to be offensive.

"Different. Yes. We do a lot at home, helps illustrate point." Gregor shrugged. "Force of habit. Can understand. Thinking that Americans should use hands more when talking, say so much, get out so little", he glanced at her and hastily added, "not all I mean. Professor this morning was very instructive, very good."

"I hope you don't mind me saying this but your English isn't as good as your father's."

"Is because he is living in America for many years. For him, English is practiced all the time. I learn in school, very little chance to practice." Gregor grinned slyly. "Maybe you help me practice English, I teach you Russian. Always good to speak extra language."

"Maybe…but…" Violet tried to figure out the best way to respond to this. She was saved the trouble by a very large bearded man wearing a janitor's uniform walking down the hall and stopping when he saw Gregor. He grinned and winked, saying something in Russian.

Gregor's face tightened up slightly, and he responded with a slew of words Violet couldn't understand. He gestured at her, at himself, around in the air, and continued to talk. The janitor laughed, made a quick motion with his hands and a face, and said something else. Gregor stomped his foot and replied, throwing his hands above his head. Violet chose to disengage, deciding it would be best if she didn't know what they were going on about. And she was already 5 minutes late for lunch. She hurried down the hall into the cafeteria, spotted Tony standing by a table, and walked over to him.

"Sorry…I had to stay behind and ask the teacher some questions. We've got that test coming up." She smiled apologetically and put her backpack on the floor.

"That's ok. Is it true that there's an exchange student from Russia here?"

"Yeah, his name's Gregor. He's in my history class." And, he's the son of a super hero that's best friends with my dad, she added in her head. And he's really kind of nice…

"That's cool. Does he have an accent?"

"Yeah…", Violet giggled slightly, unable to help herself. "A pretty bad one. But he's intelligent and he said he was trying to improve."

"Cool. Did you get to talk to him?"

"A little. He stayed after class too, so I told him he could come meet us for lunch. I hope you don't mind."

"No, it's fine. I'd like to meet him, I'll bet he's got some pretty cool stories."

"Yeah…hey there he is!" Violet stood up and waved to Gregor, who was doing his best to ignore the janitor trying to talk to him. One glance from a teacher and the janitor sighed, waved goodbye, and went back down the hall. Gregor walked over to them, muttering to himself under his breath. He stopped, took a deep breath and smiled.

"Hello again Violet. Sorry about that." He slid into a chair and pulled a metal lunch box out of his backpack.

"It's ok Gregor. I'd like you to meet my boyfriend, Tony." Violet smiled slightly.

"Nice to meet you." Tony extended his hand across the table.

"And you as well." Gregor reached across and shook his hand.

Violet felt warm inside. She had managed to make contact with the son of another super, and introduce him to her boyfriend without any hostilities being exchanged. She sat back down, pulling out a sandwich from her lunch bag. "Who was that guy by the way? Do you know him?"

"He is my…", Gregor paused for a second, "uncle. My uncle Fyodor, my mother's brother. He is getting job here, so mother is saying good school to place me in, one where family is working. He is big child, always joking around. Speaks very little English, but understands a lot."

Satisfied with his explanation, the three settled in to eat. Violet watched in amazement as Gregor produced sandwich after sandwich from his lunch box, and even Tony seemed a little surprised. After his 5th one Gregor closed the lid and replaced it back inside his pack. He belched softly, stretched, and pulled out a toothpick.

"…That was impressive man…I've never seen anyone eat that much for lunch." Tony's voice held a little bit of awe in it. "How much do you work out?"

"Not much… twice a day, pullups and sit-ups. Appetite coming from work, training to be forester." He chewed thoughtfully on the toothpick, staring at the end of it as he worked it around his mouth.

"You've already got a job?"

"Yes, father is…how you say…shift boss for company. So, before coming over, I work. Good job, good pay, good hours. Good workout too…", Gregor flexed one of his arms, and the muscles underneath his skin rippled slightly. "Not easy work, but good."

"Do you play any sports?" Now Tony's voice held vested interest. If he would be seeing this guy on the field, it would be useful to get to know him very well. It's easier to function as a team when everyone knows each other after all.

"No…well…hockey. Am trying for hockey team."

"No football, baseball, just hockey?"

"Maybe football, in couple of years. But hockey…" Gregor's voice had taken on a dreamy sound. "In Russia we play on lakes in winter…is like nothing else."

"Well that's cool. You should try out for the team though, I bet you'd do well." Tony hoped that would be the case. He liked Gregor, he was a nice guy, and didn't seem to let the differences in countries bother him too much. The trio continued to talk until the bell rang, and then separated for class.

**End Section**

"So Boris, with all that other information, what, exactly, are we up against?" Bob stretched in his chair, suppressing a yawn. This briefing had seemed to drag on forever. He checked his watch and winced, he'd told his boss it was lunch with a client and wouldn't take longer than a couple of hours.

"Not entirely sure. We have surveillance information on the other three, and of course you know the Cossack." He slid a thin folder across the table to Bob and flipped open an identical copy in front of him. "We were hoping you might have run into some of them in the past."

Bob thumbed through the folder, pulling out and setting aside a few of the photos. He studied these closely for a moment and sighed, rubbing his temples. "Boris you could probably give me pictures of the president and I couldn't tell you right now. We've been at this for close to four hours. Aren't your guys the ones collecting intel for us?"

"This…this is all the intel we acquired. The observation team has been out of contact for a week, most likely dead. I am sorry, we ran the photos through our database and managed only partial matches on all of them."

"Ok…hmm…what partials did you turn up? If had a few names to start from I might be able to identify one of these guys." Bob picked up a photo of a very large man with a huge battle axe. "This guy though…something about him…I wish you could have gotten a color shot."

"Sorry comrade. All photos taken at night, about a week ago, in Arizona. We tried to observe during the day, but there was no activity, and we couldn't risk approaching the area to plant color feeds. It did not do the team any good anyway." Boris sighed and found what he was looking for. "Here we go…for the large man we have the following: The Medieval Mauler, Axe'l, The Executioner, Boss Gazgull, The Canberra Cleaver…", He shook his head and sighed again. "Too many that have been released or escaped or never caught."

"I know…wait…you said Boss Gazgull?" Bob inspected the picture intensely, studying the axe in particular. "Yes. Yes that's got to be him, nobody else has an axe like that." He passed the photo to Boris and pointed at an area of it. "Notice the markings on it. None of the ones you listed have marking like that. Almost completely certain that's him. Do you have any more shots with the axe in them?"

Boris flipped through his folder and handed Bob another one, a hi-res shot of the head of the axe. He studied it closely for a second and then let out a small whoop.

"Yes! Tell your boys to pull up everything they can on Gazgull. We got one down, 2 to go." Bob felt energy flow through him. Identifying one of the enemies he would have to face gave him an advantage, and it felt good to know that. "What's the next set?"

Boris pulled out another folder and handed it to Bob. "This one is a bit more difficult. For some reason the cameras had trouble picking up the next one. All we able to catch for the most part was a flash of an arm or torso…but we did get one very good one." He pulled out a picture of a man's head and shoulders. The man had strange tattoos on his cheeks, with a skull mask painted on his face. Long, curving tusks dangled from his ears, pierced through the lobes, and a small bone ran from one side of his nose through to the other.

Bob furrowed his brow as he studied the picture. "I don't think I've ever seen anything like him before…you get any partials?"

"Am afraid we did not. We could not find anything that matched this photo, and it worries us. Unknown super villians are emerging all the time, as you know with the Underminer. We suspect he's black and from somewhere in Africa or the Caribbean, but we can't be certain. We sent images to governments in those areas, but chances are we won't get much of a return. You know how some of the dictators shelter villains to avoid their anger or use their services.."

"Well that doesn't do us much good. Ok, we're 2 for 3, anything else?"

"Only one…and…this is the last. We think the surveillance got spotted and managed to make it to the drop sight before being caught. We were lucky to recover these at all." Boris hesitated for a second. "I am not even sure if this is worth anything, but we must take the chance." He slid the photo across to Bob.

It appeared to be nothing at first, just the strange white tint afforded by the night vision lens. Then, he noticed, near the center of the photo, a strange spot in the white. It seemed to be a different color, and twisted and moved as he watched. He brought it closer to his face and studied harder. It danced in front of him, strange…mesmerizing. He felt himself being drawn into it, his mind aligning itself with the patterns and symbols it carried. He felt tiny, dwarfed by it…he could hear whispering to him…he must…and the photo was torn from his grip. The whisper screamed in rage for a second and was gone, his mind once more his own. Bob gasped for air, planting his hands against the table.

"What…the hell…was that?" He gestured towards the photo, feeling faintly queasy. That voice…how had it done that, through a still photograph?

"We don't know. This is the only photo we have of what might be the fourth villain. Did you see the patterns as well?" Boris carefully replaced the photo in the folder without looking at it.

"Yeah…and the voice."

"What voice?"

"You've never heard it?"

"No…", Boris furrowed his brow and looked apprehensively at the folder. He crossed himself and placed it inside his briefcase, then slid that away with his foot. "If you did hear something than chances are we should not be looking at it any longer"

Bob felt a stab when he said that. What? He had to look at the picture, had to study it, find the patterns…he shook his head violently, willing away the lingering effects. "Whatever it is, it's not going to be easy. If it can do that through a picture, what else can it do?"

End Note: Sorry about not having combat in this one, I just kind of ran out of steam after about 3 days of writers block and managed to hammer out the last couple of pages. I will get some combat in the next one, and big things are in the works, I promise.

12/1/04


End file.
